


Not A Monster

by britishbossy



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:51:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7811485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britishbossy/pseuds/britishbossy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft knows that he's not good enough for Clara. He's always known that he doesn't deserve her. So, he makes the decision to let her leave. But Clara's got other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not A Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Refering to the trailer of season 4 where Mrs. Hudson calls Mycroft a "reptile".

Not A Monster

 

 

 

 

 

“Get out of my house, you reptile!“

The old landlady looked at him in anger and disgust. Her words were meant as a slap across his face but Mycroft knew they were not more than he deserved. He barely raised a brow.

“Very well”, he said dryly and turned, leaving Mrs. Hudson in 221B Baker Street.

He let his driver take him straight home while the daylight slowly started to fade. His body was exhausted from a long day at work but his mind wouldn’t settle. Memories were racing through his synapses, doubts were pestering him. It was not new. Politics meant war and sacrifices, mostly on the field of private life. That was why he had avoided having one for so long.

 

_Iceman. Monster._

Insults didn’t bother him too much. Neither did the names some people would call him, he knew them all. And those who ever dared to insult him usually ended up dead. He had not actually considered to have Mrs. Hudson killed, of course. Or had he? He shook his head off this thought knowing that once he travelded down this path there would be no going back.

It was true. He always acted logically and cold blooded, in the interests of Great Britain. For Queen and country. Even if he had to sell his own grandmother. He had done so often enough in the past.

People were afraid of him and they were right to be. Mycroft had that power and also that responsiblity. He leant back into the seat, feeling pain spread in his tense shoulders. Sometimes he had to admit to himself that they were times when it all felt like too much. Especially now that he had a private life.

 

Clara.

 

From the beginning he had known he didn’t deserve her. He would never get even close to that. She was actually the exact opposite of him. She was good, gentle, beautiful beyond question, warm like a midsummer’s evening. Mycroft still failed to understand why of all people she had chose him. Why she was staying. Clara was giving up her friends for him. She wouldn’t say but Mycroft knew what was happening. They would all try and talk her out of it, trying to convince her that he was a cold-hearted, selfish bastard and that she deserved better. The thing was that they were right. But she wouldn’t listen. The young school teacher was more and more left on her own by now and he knew it was because of him. It was his fault. She was loyal, yes. Maybe she loved him that much but in the end, perhaps in a few years she would blame him for her loneliness with him being busy all the time with his job and her shutting out all of her friends for him. And if Mycroft was honest with himself he didn’t mind it. On the contrary, he couldn’t stand it when she was out with somebody else. He wanted her all to himself, his jealousy getting worse with every month. It was a feeling that seemed to burn him from the inside out, absolute, fierce and sometimes ridiculous. He was even jealous of John and Mary when Clara went to see them. He tried to calm himself and focus on his work instead but the thoughts wouldn’t go away. Last week he had watched her hugging Detective Inspector Lestrade over CCTV. And he had wanted to shoot the man. His jealousy was dangerous and erractic. He was that monster.

 

_“If you did love her you would let her go”_

Mycroft took a deep breath when he entered his town house. Maybe it would kill him. Maybe he wouldn’t feel anything at all after this but it was the right thing to do. He loved her like he had never loved anybody before but he never knew how to express it or spell it out to her. He was not right for her. Clara deserved a man who loved her with all of his heart, someone who would make her happy. A man she could have a family with, someone younger than him, someone better than him. Someone who did not want to kill anybody who just stood too close to her.

He left his coat and umbrella at the wardrobe, hearing Clara move around in the kitchen. She called out to him but he didn’t answer. The lump in his throat was too thick. Mycroft made his way into the living room and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He was going to need it. When he heard her footsteps approach he turned to look at her. He took in her blazing look, her dark hair and her flower dress and he knew this was going to be hard. It would destroy them. It would break him for the rest of his life.

She saw, of course she did. Her worried eyes went over him and she stepped closer until she stood right in front of him.

“Hey, you okay?”, she asked and leant up to kiss him. It took his everything to turn his head away. Clara froze.

“I’ve made a decision”, he came straight to the point, schooling his features so they gave nothing away. The young woman furrowed her brows and folded her arms, waiting. Maybe she had an idea of what he was about to do. Mycroft decided to pretend that she didn’t mean anything to him, perhaps if he pretended hard enough it would be easier. He could do this. He had to if he wanted her to be happy.

“I’m afraid this relationship has no chance to continue. I am way too busy and actually...”, he knew that he would regret his following words but he had to make her believe him. He had to be the monster now.

“I’ve enjoyed your company in my bed but you were merely a distraction. My position-“. He was interrupted by her hand that slapped him hard across his cheek. Mycroft closed his eyes. It was done, then. Clara’s eyes were filled with anger when he looked back at her but there was something else as well. Was it self assurance?

“How dare you?”, she asked and her voice was dark with emotion. Whatever emotion it was.

“What is this, aye? A trick? What the hell has gotten into you, Mycroft Holmes? How dare you lying to me like that?”.

He blinked. Did she see right through his camouflage? Had he been that obvious?

Clara raised her chin at him.

“If you really want to break up with me you’ll have to come up with a better reason than that because I don’t buy it. I don’t believe you.”

Mycroft felt his plan fail. He had thought if he found the right kind of wrong words, if he would only hurt her enough she would leave in a hurry her judgement blinded by sentiment. That’s how it worked with most people. But then again, Clara wasn’t most people.

“Regardless of what you think you know, I’ve never loved you”, he tried again, even harder this time. It was a lie, of course. Perhaps it was the biggest lie he had ever told. Her eyes went wide for a moment. He could see the hurt he had caused and wanted to kick himself right there and then. In the next moment he found himself pushed against the wall with her kissing him like she meant to destroy him, her hands fisted in his shirt. Her actions took him completely by surprise and he tumbled into the kiss for a second or two before he turned away his head sharply, his hands seeking purchase on the wall behind him. He stared at her in disbelief, unable to say anything. The slightly desperate look in her eyes slowly turned into a smug one.

“Now, reapeat that lie”, she breathed.

Mycroft felt dazed. She knew. How could she possibly know? He desperately searched his brain for an answer in this situation but his mind was blank.

“Clara...I-“.

She kissed him again, deeper and slower this time as if she’d already sensed his capitulation. And Mycroft couldn’t help but kiss her back, the lump in his throat fading away and his shoulders relaxing even though he still kept his hands awkwardly pinned to the wall. His brain screamed at him to push her away, to let her leave and let her be happy. But in the face of her caress all he could do was follow. He was weak, he was a selfish, love-sick idiot.

She broke the kiss and let her mouth travel down his throat, losing the knot of his tie. Mycroft could not think like that. The softness of her lips on his skin was too much.

“Clara, stop”, he gasped and took hold of her wrists.

“Is that what you want?”, she asked and looked up at him sheepishly before she leant in again. But he kept her at bay this time.

“What I want is irrelevant”, he got out, his breathing slowly returning back to normal. “You deserve better”.

“Oh, and who exactly put you in charge about what I deserve?”, she asked sarcastically. “I don’t deserve anything. Nobody deserves anything. This whole subject is silly, what the hell is wrong with you?” She stared up at him and he felt her breath on his face. The warmth of her body was touching his, bleeding through his clothes, getting under his skin. He could feel her pulse under his fingers, still holding her wrists. Not grabbing, just holding them gently.

“Listen to your friends”, he said and his heart felt as heavy as stone.

“They’re right about me. I’m not good for you”. Clara blinked and slowly tugged her hands free. She remained standing right in front of him, kept him by the wall with her body only. Mycroft didn’t dare to move.

“Since when do you care what other people think of you?” She put her hands on her hips and looked at him in wonder.

“You don’t understand”, he shook his head and let his arms sink down to his sides. He really had to explain himself now. It was the only way he could make her see. He had to drop his mask and show her the beast underneath. He would expose his inner turmoil to her and scare her off.

“I don’t care what people think of me, I never have. I don’t even care that you don’t see your friends because of me. Actually I’m rather glad that you don’t.” She furrowed her brows and he finally stepped away from the wall, walking around and stood right behind her, breathing down the top of her head.

“I am a sociopathic man, Clara”, he explained and she slowly turned around to face him, her arms crossed.

“An emotionally underdevelopped being that can’t tell the difference between love and obsession. Therefore I do not like to share. And whatever it is that I feel for you makes me want to claim you as mine. I want you all to myself. I even, when I feel like it, consider killing everybody who just dares to look at you. The only thing holding me back from doing so is the fact that it would hurt you.” He paused, taking in her reaction. She was doing her best to hide it but he could see the slight horror his confession caused inside her.

“And I could never hurt you. Not again.” Mycroft pushed back the memories of him letting her down. Only these past deeds should have been enough for her to leave. But she hadn’t. She had forgiven him.

“These...feelings keep growing stronger and I’m afraid that one day I won’t be able to ignore them any longer”, he went on. “One day I might act on them. And I won’t be responsible for my actions once I do.” It was a warning, yet he could tell she felt threatened. There was the slightest hitch in her breath, long enough for him to pick it up. She was scared. He took a step back from her, giving her some space, his eyes not leaving hers.

“This is what I am. And I will not change. So, take my advice and leave as long as I still let you. Perhaps it would be wise to leave London or even England. Get away as far as you can. I will try not to find you. But I can’t promise you”, he finished and waited for her to storm out the door instantly. But she didn’t. Clara stood motionless for a while, looking on the floor, biting her lip, thinking. Mycroft felt completely exposed. It was like cutting his skin open, tear his muscles apart. There was nothing left of him.

“If you don’t act upon these...ideas because you don’t want to hurt me I’d say that your feelings are still motivated by love”, she finally said, looking at him. Uncrossing her arms she stepped closer once more, her eyes searching his face.

“Jealousy is not a bad thingas long as it’s not ruling you”, she went on. “You know where it’s coming from”.

Mycroft sighed. “The fear of losing you and doubts about myself. A dangerous mix”.

Clara smiled thinly at him. “Well, it’s alright to be jealous. Everybody is sometimes, that doesn’t make you a bad man. Even I can be jealous sometimes”, she laughed uneasily.

He snorted and looked away from her. If she only had the faintest idea what had already crossed his mind concerning that topic.

“The jealousy of other people is not dangerous. Mine is. It’s capricious.”

“Mycroft, you’re not a monster”, she whispered as she realised what he was trying to say. He let her touch her hand to his, holding it. There was hurt in her eyes now but it was not because of herself. She was pained by the way he saw himself.

“Whatever happened today”, she said calmly, not needing him to tell her. “Whatever they called you, you’re not the monster they all think you are”. She squeezed his hand.

“And even if you were, I’d still love you”.

Mycroft couldn’t help but frown at her. “You’re supposed to be scared”, he answered.

“Oh, I am”, she nodded. “But right now I’m more afraid of losing you.” Clara reached up and put her arm around his neck, her other hand still holding his. He wanted to respond but found that he couldn’t move. It felt good and safe. But he knew it shouldn’t.

“We’re gonna figure it out, you and I”, she whispered into his ear. “We’re not gonna let jealousy come between us, or what other people think of us because it doesn’t matter. I know we can do this, Mycroft, trust me. Just trust me”.

Finally, he let his head sink down to her shoulder, his arm coming up around her waist. She still had hope for them. He didn’t know where she was taking it from but he knew that she was much stronger than him. She was supporting him and suddenly he felt more exhausted than he had all day. He released her and looked down at her. Clara smiled, always the optimist. Always his sunshine. Bringing his hand up, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the need to touch her suddenly overwhelming.

“You make me feel funny”, he confessed quietly. “I cannot remember feeling things like this before. It’s terrifying”. He tried to ignore the fact that his voice was shaky. Mycroft had never felt so scared in his life. His heart was racing, his blood roaring in his ears.

“I’m not good at this, Clara”, he went on. “I don’t understand emotions and neither do I know how to be your... _boyfriend_ ”. The word felt strange on his tongue. He had never considered himself fitting that description one day. Her smile grew wider and she even chuckled silently. Then, her features went serious once more.

“It’s okay”, she said. “I’ve got you”. Squeezing his hand again, she tugged him towards the stairs.

 

Later that night in bed when she whispered words of endearment into his skin as she fell apart in his arms, Mycroft felt invincible.


End file.
